MARC TRAIN MUSE
by TwilightofCraigslistContest
Summary: Searching for the woman who turned a break down into a beautiful blessing  - District of Columbia/Baltimore County -


Contest: **Twilight of Craigslist AD Contest (Part I)**

Title: ****MARC TRAIN MUSE****

Rating: **T**

Pairing: **Edward and Bella**

Disclaimer: **I don't own these characters; only the disdain for public transportation :)**

Word Count (minus A/N and header): **770**

**Don't forget to read the other entries! www. fanfiction. net/u/ 3211840/ Also, follow us on twitter! twiCraigslist**

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><p><strong>Searching for the woman who turned a break down into a beautiful blessing (District of ColumbiaBaltimore County)**  
>Date: 2011-06-13, 8:00PM EST<br>Reply to: EACullen (at) craigslist (dot) org

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><p>Four hours.<p>

We were stuck on that hot, congested broken down train from Washington, DC to Baltimore for four hours together, and you know what? They were some of the best hours of my life.

At first our mutual disdain for the perils of public transportation served as a means to break the ice. We commiserated over the lack of water that the train company was supposed to keep on hand for such engineering failures, as well as the train conductors' reluctance to open the windows even though we weren't moving. That led to us discussing how the Red line for DC's metro is always suffering some sort of delay due to "an earlier situation that has now been resolved", yet that resolution never allows the trains to get back on track, so to speak. Or how the escalators at the Rosslyn stop are always on the fritz, causing us to have to walk up what seems like the physical manifestation of the stairway to heaven. Then one of us, and I honestly can't remember who, came up with the idea of trying to come up with the best song to describe the shitiness of the day – and suddenly getting to know one another was the focus.

Out of that game I learned that you were big on the "singer/songwriter" movement, particularly those with a nice infusion of soul and blues. You told me that, like most young women at the moment, Adele's 21 album was on constant repeat on your IPod. You also told me the same had been true for her previous three albums, so you weren't just hopping on the bandwagon. I told you that I wouldn't judge if you had hopped on, because I was guilty of the offense when it came to Adele. You seemed quite surprised that I would admit to loving her music; almost as surprised as I was that I let that slip out of my mouth. I couldn't figure out why I'd let that guilty pleasure slip out in that moment, but after further conversation with you, it became clear.

It's true that you were beyond beautiful in your light blue sundress and yellow sweater that complemented slightly tanned skin and brown tendrils that framed an open, heart-shaped face. It was the beauty you exuded, however, that called to me.

You told me about your job as a part-time guidance counselor for a private school in Baltimore City and about the school you're attending in DC for your Masters in Community Counseling. The way you spoke about your future in counseling was both with reverence and confidence. The way you spoke about the students you get to counsel at your school was with all the excitement and protection that one would expect from a relative, and not just an employee. And for all the complaining about the train that started off our conversation, you were patient and kind while waiting, giving the bottle of water that you happened to have on you to the pregnant woman sitting three rows back and making funny faces at the kid who looked frightened and confused.

You were a breath of fresh air to me. Me who, although I love being in my last year of Law at American University and my internship in the MD Prosecutor's Office, rarely gets the time to sit back and talk about music or play peak-a-boo with a seven year old. My life for the past few years has been about tunnel vision – my focus solely on getting my degree and reaching a goal. But that day, I was more than happy to live in the moment, with you.

So, I'm hoping that the love you revealed to me for the cheap Art Deco lamp you bought off of someone on Craig's List will bring you here once again.

I'm hoping it will bring you back to me.

Because as the train was finally repaired and we continued on our journey, and as I failed to work up the courage to speak to you as we parted ways at Penn Station, everything in my being just wanted to stick close to you. To ask you out to dinner or a movie, or walk around the park with you, as you told me you do with your dog every weekend. To simply be in your presence and enjoy the ride.

I hope you see this, and I hope you let me.

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